Of Hobbits, Magic and Rings
by TheaDreams
Summary: The child arrived in the Shire - so unlike the rest. One who could change more than world. See profile for standard "do not own, do not profit, writing for fun" disclaimer. Abandoned.
1. The Arrival

**The Arrival**

The child came on a misty, grey morning near the road to Bag End. Beneath the tree along the road to the grand hobbit hole, he lay with hair like midnight strewn messily about his face. The child's skin marred with more than just dirt. His clothes reminded Samwise Gamgee, the gardener of Bag End, of old, peeling bark.

"Tis not right, Mr. Frodo, for a child to look like this." He muttered as he hefted the child into the hobbit hole with the help of his friend and employer Frodo Baggins. "He is a big folk's child, a young one too."

Flashing blue eyes, lips curled into a frown with a slight nod in agreement, Samwise's employer could only wonder quizzically. Without too many words the pair took an hour to clean and dress the still unconscious child before putting him to bed in one of Frodo's guest rooms. It was a miracle he hadn't woken up.

"What is he doing in the Shire of all places?" Frodo mused as they closed the door to the room and went to the kitchen to wash up and have elevensies. "If he's from Bree, it takes days to make that journey! Any hobbit worth his salt would have found him before he reached us here. They'd turn him away - child or not."

"I do not like the look of this Mr. Frodo if you ask me," Samwise said quietly. The kind hearted hobbit never could stand for any injustice of any sort. He was quite jittery around the big folk but when it came to children, he couldn't stand it when they got hurt. "It's not every day you get strangers in these parts apart from Gandalf. Even he is a wizard and he's the queerest person we all know by far."

Without further conversation, the pair worked together to put tea, crumpets, a swath of bacon, butter, some apples and pears from the orchard on to the table. By the time they finally sat down, they both paused mid reach towards their meal (crumpet for Sam and bacon for Frodo) when they heard a door creak.

Their guest had awoken.

Verdant eyes scrutinized the two hobbits in front of them. There was confusion in his gaze as if piecing together a great mystery. Looking at the child now, Frodo could see how different even for a human their guest was. There was a slight glow that centered on the child that seemed to hum now that he watched the man child more closely.

"Hello boy," He finally greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

The child took a step back as if startled by the words. Panic flashed through the child's expressive face of his as he blinked owlishly at the pair of them.

Frodo exchanged a glance with Sam. The latter looked confused and shrugged as if to say the child was now his employer's problem. Sighing, the former stood up from his place from the table and went to the rather tense human child.

"Hello boy," Frodo said with a small smile to welcome him, showing him that he wasn't going to harm him. "I'm Master Frodo Baggins of Bag End, you are in my home. Please do sit down with us for a meal."

He watched as the boy's eyes told the tale of his thoughts. A great deal of uncertainty was in his gaze but a sudden wary confidence took place. Looking around him, the human child took a tentative step towards Frodo.

"That's it, come along." He greeted the human warmly. With each step that brought the boy closer to him, the hobbits watched as he slowly revealed an uncertain trust about them. Seconds had passed by the time he reached the older hobbit of the pair who gently but hurriedly urged him towards a seat on the table.

"Please, help yourself." Frodo stated as he sat the human child down. The two hobbits soon began to take crumpets, bacon and all the other goods that they had put on the table. Sam quickly put a plate in front of the child and the trio sat in silence chomping on their meal.

The boy didn't speak much and had slowly taken a crumpet to the plate. The two hobbits looked at each other at the meagre portion. The gardener hobbit took the role of piling food on the boy's plate and pouring him a cup of tea before continuing on his meal. The boy looked at the hobbit and gave a curious yet almost grateful glance as he chewed thoughtfully on the food in front of him.

"He's awfully quiet," Sam observed as he stuffed a crumpet slathered with honey into his mouth before downing some tea son after it.

"Aye, that he is," Frodo nodded as he chewed on a piece of bacon.

"Looking at him, he doesn't have the look of Bree." Sam mused as he lathered buckle berry jam on to another crumpet this time.

"And you would know this how?" Frodo asked his friend.

"Gaffer says that Bree folk are hard worked folks with browned skins because their work takes them outside much of the time. This child although he's got roughed up hands and feet, the rest of him is far too pale." Sam replied.

Frodo frowned and took note of Sam's words. He looked over the child's hands which were far too calloused certainly for one too young. The boy seemed to retreat inwardly a little when he noticed the hobbits look his way.

"No one is going to hurt you boy," Frodo said finally with a small, welcoming smile and a nod to the other hobbit. "This here hobbit is my friend and gardener, Samwise Gamgee – you can call him Sam for short."

The boy looked to the gardener who gave a grunt of acknowledgement to his gaze. Neither hobbit missed the amusement in the human child's eyes. The unspoken question for the boy's name lingered in the air soon after.

As if sensing what they may ask next, the boy looked at the pair and quietly cleared his throat. "Frodo," gesturing to the hobbit then, "Sam," here he nodded to the gardener and then in an unmistakable motion, the child placed a weak hand to his chest and said; "Harry. Harry Potter."

The two hobbits looked at one another then the child. Dumfounded, struck and confused. It soon became clear to everyone at the table the reason for the child's confusion initially when Frodo had spoken to the child.

"By the tone of his – he speaks none of our talk and I bet on Gaffer's old crops that he doesn't speak like the big folk either!" Sam gasped, now that it was his turn to blink owlishly at the child.

The exclamation made the boy – Harry, Frodo amended mentally – jump.

"Sam, you've frightened him a bit. Harry, welcome to the Shire." The dark haired hobbit smiled instead in order to calm the child who was scrutinizing the gardener with his cautious gaze.

The child nodded with his first, bright smile. "Hallo."

* * *

><p>Days flew by then weeks then months and before anyone in the hole of Bag End knew it; three seasons had passed.<p>

Much to the disapproval of the rest of the Shire folk – young Harry Potter stayed.

The whisperers and gossips of the town deemed Frodo Baggins as odd as his uncle. No good hobbit would take in a strange human child under their wings – even one as useful and smart as young Harry.

It didn't take long for anyone around them to realize that no one was going to come claim the child nor did he belong to the town folk of Bree.

Hobbits not trusting of the big folk took the child as part of their own.

A few days after his arrival, Sam along with Frodo, Frodo's cousin Meriadoc Brandybuck (Merry) and the tween Peregrin Took (Pippin) who was Merry's good friend got together to build a large extension close enough to the hobbit hole, orchards and gardens for a bedroom Harry could call his own. They knew that men were much larger than hobbits and not knowing how tall the child would or could be – Sam thought it prudent to be prepared.

Harry quickly learned the Shire's ways and despite the coaxing of Merry or Pippin or oftentimes both to do some sort of mischief – the child stayed close to Frodo and Sam. It was a strange mystery but soon commonplace for all the hobbits in the Shire to know that Master Frodo Baggins – much like his cousin before him – had adopted a charge. Irregular since the child was that of the Big Folks.

"Those Baggins'," other hobbits said said. "The only good ones are the Sackvilles and even then – that's not saying much about them."

It didn't bother anyone who knew the goings on of Bag End though.

In fact things went on as much as it did back in the day of the Hole's old master Bilbo Baggins. There was gardening to do, learning to be had (for Harry at least who soaked it up to learn the Common Tongue quite quickly to the benefit of all) and a good life to lead.

Things changed on the 8th day of Wedmath (July 31) when Harry turned eleven years old in the year 3011.


	2. The Day the Pig Flew

**The Day the Pig Flew**

In the past, there were three things Harry James Potter knew very well.

One, always do what Aunt Petunia says.

Two, try not to get on Uncle Vernon's bad side or else you get a bruising.

Three, run from Dudley.

Nowadays, he was realizing three very important things that would forever define his life.

One, he loved the Shire – its rolling countryside, quiet rivers and peaceful valleys.

Two, Mr. Frodo, Mr. Sam, Mr. Merry, Pippin, Mr. Fredregar Bolger, and Mr. Folco Boffin became very good friends to him. The child did suspect however that the former was protective over his safety. The latter two hobbits joined the group soon after finding out about his arrival and accepted him quick enough.

'_Mr. Frodo's a good hobbit and one who may seem odd to most folk but they don't know what they're missing. It's never a dull moment in Bag End, unlike the rest of the Shire.' Mr. Fredregar had said as way of explaining their acceptance of the human child in their midst_.

Three, he knew it was the Magic that brought him here; the Magic he hoped would let him stay.

Either way – for one who had seen many tears sobbed quietly in his cupboard – the living with hobbits had made him feel better about his circumstances. It also made him more even tempered if possible as well as more observant.

Living with the folk who looked no taller than a five year old but far older than any child he'd ever seen made him appreciate so much more than he thought possible. These people lived simply. Not needing more or less than what they had. They were mostly thankful for what they had and worked hard to provide for their rather extensive families.

Certainly there were some folk who thought they could gain more by being a bit rude (the Sackville-Bagginses never won favors with him) while others continued to live re-learning the history of the Shire's renowned families or smoking Old Tobey.

For an almost eleven year old (an exciting two days away) life was certainly good and much better than before.

It was a quarter after twelve in the afternoon, when the trouble began. Harry was on his way back to Bag End after an entertaining day with his guardians and their friends but was made to go home right quick since all of them were going to the Green Dragon for ale. Something they said wasn't proper for a growing lad (although Pippin had snuck him a tumbler to try once).

As he went walking up the hill, he spotted young Daisy Hornblower with her brother Fred and cousin Poppy – crying.

"Daisy, it'll be alright! Snouty's a smart pig, he'll come back."

"No he ain't!"

"Shut it Fred!" Poppy slapped her cousin on the arm with a menacing look on her usually good hearted face. He winced then turned away only to flinch when he spotted Harry.

"Hush Daisy, the boy is coming. You don't want him to eat you!" He said petulantly. This caused more tears to come forth.

Harry couldn't help but feel slight amusement. As well as a pang of hurt – despite the good things that came with living with an eccentric and wealthy hobbit like Frodo Baggins – he was still at times shunned by the Shire folk.

"Eat her will I?" The older boy asked wryly to the hobbit boy who was the size of a six month year old babe. Harry estimated the child was roughly six or seven in hobbit years – a baby too really. Being a human, he towered over the hobbits excluding maybe Merry.

All three paused to look up at him with mixed expressions. Only Daisy remained still clinging on to Poppy, buried in the young hobbit lass' skirts.

Looking at the three of them he arched an eyebrow and shrugged. He walked steadily pass them a few paces until a childish yell brought him back.

"Wait! Please help?"

Harry turned to the hobbit lass who asked for him. He paused and looked over at them with a raised eyebrow. Two other pairs of eyes looked down to the red faced hobbit wiping her nose on Poppy's dress in shock.

"Get Snouty Mr. Big Folk Sir."

"Daisy!" Her brother growled, "Daisy…" her cousin whispered.

There was a silence; an almost intangible gasp as the world held its breath. It was as if the whole universe in that second wanted to know what the boy would decide.

If it were any other person, they would have ignored the child's tears thinking a pig is just a pig and little hobbit children should return to their holes. Then there would be a few would help the child find the pig for a bit but then give up. Lastly, there is the precious few who refuse to give up until the request was fulfilled.

"Well now, I think I could get him for you Miss Daisy." Harry replied with a warm smile. "Where is he?"

He watched as the girl pointed towards the fields near the road. The ten year old assessed what he needed to do before scratching his head.

"And what does Snouty look like?"

"Annoying," Fred snorted disinterestedly. "Ow! Poppy…that hurt!"

He rubbed his head as Poppy cleared her throat. "He's black."

"With pink spots!" Daisy interrupted. Three hobbit children with big eyes looked up at the human boy with something akin to scrutiny (or in the case of Daisy – hope).

Harry nodded slowly, "Right then. I'll be back out shortly – if you go home for supper I'll bring Snouty over alright?"

This did not sit well with the little hobbit lass who had spent the past hour crying, sniffling and yelling at how silly her cousins were for letting Snouty play in the fields.

"How I know you get Snouty?" She asked petulantly. "Snout's got red ribbon round 'is neck."

Harry smiled – not having any siblings his own but having watched Frodo, Sam and Merry around Pippin – he couldn't help but feel a bit strangely for this little hobbit lass.

He knelt down on one knee pulled out his pinky finger and grinned widely. "I pinky promise with this ah – apple to bring you back Snouty."

He gave her the apple he'd gotten from Merry (who'd let it slip into his satchel along with a few other things that was on a 'need to know' basis).

Three hobbit children blinked owlishly before Daisy moved awkwardly, wrapping one hand tightly around his pinky while struggling to get the apple from him. It took Fred two hands to help her out before Harry stood up again and went to the field Daisy had pointed out earlier.

The field was filled with wheat that reached his elbows. As he clambered through he listened carefully for the unmistakable sound of his quarry.

The deeper and further away from the hobbit children he got the more he felt uncertain of his decision. Still he pressed forward not liking the thought of making a promise and not keeping it.

Time seemed to slow down for Harry as he continued his search. He focused on his breathing and his searching.

That's when he heard it.

"Gotcha," he said with a smile in his former tongue. Like a rocket he began chasing after the sound and in a way the pig knew it was being followed. The pitter patter squeak of the animal and the quiet burst of racing Harry did landed the unlikely duo far outside of Hobbiton.

He soon became frustrated when he saw how far away he was from where he started and would have given up if it weren't for a horrified squeak.

Looking around he saw that the pig was rolling down the hill towards a rushing river that he knew he had to do something.

What he did of course not only surprised him but worried him at the same time.

* * *

><p>"He's been gone for hours!" Fred burst out in annoyance flecking a piece of apple that had gotten on his collar. He sat on the right hand side of Daisy as they looked at the field in front of them where the boy disappeared.<p>

"Shush," Poppy reprimanded her brother looking down at their cousin who looked for the entire world entranced by the field.

"She's a baby Poppy," Fred hissed. "She doesn't know better."

"Still, we got to look after her. Mummy and Auntie Holly said so while they're makin' some clothes."

Daisy didn't bother with her cousins arguing above her head. All that mattered was the boy kept his promise.

In actuality the three hobbit children had only been sitting at the edge of the field about an hour – not hours as per Fred's comments. That said they weren't expecting a loud squealing and a rushing wind to come their way.

"What's that?" Fred asked suspiciously only to get knocked back about a foot when a black mass hit him in the face and chest.

"SNOUTY!"

"Did he just fly?" Poppy asked to no one in particular forgetting the though momentarily as she looked after her cousin and brother.

Harry emerged from the field with a look of annoyance as he had stepped on a stray pebble. Looking at the hobbit lass hugging the small pig (a piglet really), an annoyed Fred and a nurturing Poppy he knew his work was done – even if it was a bit unconventional.

"Poppy hold on to him." Daisy demanded of her cousin before bounding up to Harry and flinging herself on to his leg. "THANK YOU!"

Harry couldn't help but blush and smile awkwardly. Patting Daisy on the head with a 'you are welcome'.

He didn't dare tell them what happened near the hill or the strange power he felt when the pig went zipping past him.

He'd do something on that later. For now, he had to get home and get some sleep since he was going to be spending the next couple of days buried in party business.


	3. The Birthday

**The Birthday**

Fate is a strange mistress.

She weaves her tapestry with fingers dancing across many threads and dreams of things that were, is or could be. Having had this job, this one purpose to weave lives in and out throughout eternity can get tedious. It can also get quite boring in Fate's opinion.

Bad things happen when Fate gets bored. Sudden apocalypses and evil winning made the Lord of All both annoyed. So, Fate was given souls to play with.

There were souls to intertwine, to weave, to do with as she would.

Sometimes playing with the soul more times than not and getting different results all the time. To all the heavens these souls were known as the Children of Prophecy.

One soul in particular, out of her many sons and daughters of prophecy was her favourite. To many worlds he is known as Harry James Potter. All his paths lay before her. So many intertwining threads could be made for his life that Fate never could get too bored with his life. There is something about his heart that continually sparked her mind for eternity to come.

In one particular thread line she was weaving for him out of the many she had going for him - she knew that initially it would be cruel then kind at the very end. She loved happy endings and the ones that left him with bad ones she always forced Time to help with those.

The other soul to complete him would be there as well. So many souls tied to one; two worlds, multiple hearts, the making of another epic journey.

Knowing that Harry would meet her himself as he had in other incarnations of self before in person yet not. The meeting would be good, sad of course, but very good.

For he would know of a different power, one the dark leach tied to his would never know although in others he found when she decided to be kind.

Oh, the lives and times of men were tough.

So Fate weaved and played. Watching as the 8th day of Wedmath came. She anticipated knowing of what would be coming.

Unbeknown to the child Fate loved to weave for - a sad day was coming - one that would color the rest of them for a long time yet.

* * *

><p>The 8th day of Wedmath arrived with much fanfare.<p>

For the past couple of days things had grown busy in Bag End. Harry had been asked by Frodo to help out Fatty (Fredregar) Bolger and Folco Boffin to set up the party area near the Party Tree.

Sam and Merry managed to get certain folks in town to make the meals. While Frodo had Pippin to assist him keep everything and everyone in line.

It was a very busy and trying time but would be worth it once evening finally fell. At least that's what they all thought.

"Goodness Fatty," Folco laughed. "We did a good job getting young Harry to do all the heavy liftin'."

"Aye," replied Fatty with a nod and a smirk. "He's such a good lad too. Oi! Boy-o, come over here to have a glass. You've been sweating since sunrise and now it's time we had a bit of a picnic before the real party begins."

Harry bounded up to the two hobbits after placing down a particularly heavy table near the foot of the tree. He was slightly apprehensive about this day and the Magic acting strangely the past couple of days.

He found out about the Magic a few days after arriving in the Shire. He knew it was him who did the odd things (like tidying up Frodo's mess when he wasn't looking and Harry got worried or letting his hair grow over his scar when Sam's lady friend Rosie asked if she could cut it).

He dared not tell anyone of course although he had a feeling that at least Merry knew but had been keeping it to himself.

That said Harry gave Fatty a grateful look when the hobbit gave him an old wooden cup filled with sweet, cool and freshly squeezed apple juice.

"Fantastic!" Harry exclaimed contently after taking a large swallow.

"Slow down there young sir," Folco grinned easily watching the man child. "Tis not ale but juice from apples you are chugging."

"Aye Folco," Fatty nodded in agreement. "Ale tis something you take big gulps of like that. Tis be a hobbit's life, ale is."

Harry couldn't help but laugh with them. He remembered how he found out about hobbits and their love for their drink within the first couple weeks of his arrival to the Shire. Pippin had in fact gotten him to start "singing" in Common Tongue by teaching him what he said was something everyone should know. The fact that his first song and words were that of a drinking song was testament to the hobbits' near obsession with the stuff apart from smoking or mushrooms.

"Hey! Ho! To the bottle I go…" began Harry in a lilting, childish voice starting to deepen slightly as he quickly approached adolescence.

"To heal my heart and drown my woe!" Fatty cheered raising his own cup (no doubt filled with ale).

"Rain may fall and wind may blow," Folco joined in.

"But there still be many miles to go!" All three chorused. They didn't realize that other hobbits were quickly listening to them before suddenly they were surrounded.

"Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain, and the stream that falls from hill to plain. Better than rain or rippling brook…"

The high, masculine voice of Pippin's exclamation drew all in for a good laugh.

"IS A MUG OF BEER INSIDE THIS TOOK!"

The hobbits around the earlier three cheered – many taking some of the ale that Folco began handing out since the start of the drinking song. Others took in the apple juice Harry had been slinging back.

All told, they did the song again along with a few others until all gathered (twenty including Pippin, Merry, Frodo and Sam who were checking in on the party set up) were laughing under a darkening sky.

"Well here is a crowd of folk who know to have fun." Frodo proclaimed as he wiped a tear of laughter from one of his eyes. "Let's all get the tables ready. I think our meal has come."

A loud cheer came over all the hobbits at this announcement and so began the second longest birthday night anyone could remember.

* * *

><p>The night ended on a high note.<p>

After the feasting was done, the gifts unwrapped (his favourite was a book from Frodo of poetry and songs from the world of Middle Earth) and all were happy. Some of the dishes of course were washed, the food (whatever was leftover which was very little indeed) was either eaten or saved for the morning. Once that was finished, all became too tired and felt the need for bed.

Despite his happiness with the hobbits and the Shire - a sudden sliver of doubt stabbed his heart. As they left the Party Tree to Bag End with Frodo's hobbit friends sleeping in for the night. Harry began to wonder how long his peace would last.

The Magic had been acting up strangely since the other day. Without telling the others he'd began monitoring it since he first arrived to the Shire. It came in small bouts, nothing too strange. He also just recently taught himself how to control parts of it.

For example – the day he found out he was given the chore of helping Sam get rid of Kingsfoil from Mr. Frodo's garden – he got upset at the stubborn plant and the Magic responded by uprooting the entire flower bed.

Sam, bless him, never saw and the boy frantically wondered how he could get the bed into proper order. Startled by the Magic which he always felt at all times now, the boy began practising on that day lifting things and putting them back. He did tire out quite a bit after that.

Sam had come to check his work ever so often and said that despite the mess ('dirt all over the place but tis to be expected and no harm done too!') Harry did good work.

However, since his outburst with the pig and how he sort of made it flew (unorthodox he realized but seeing as it worked, he wasn't about to complain) the Magic had gotten out of hand.

He didn't know how he knew only that he did. The Magic needed him elsewhere. Things had to change for Harry and the Shire. For better or for worse in ways only the Magic understood.

Not knowing how long he had with them, Harry clung to the hobbits' peacefulness for as long as he could that night.

Unusually before he went to bed, he listened to one more story from Frodo. He managed to get one last good laugh out of Pippin. He soon received one last advice from Merry on the chief topic of mischief making. He shared one last knowing look with Fatty about the antics of Pippin. Before Harry got their little party singing another drinking song before they all went to sleep.

As Harry entered the covers of the shed, he heard a quiet knock and Frodo's familiar voice.

"Harry, is it alright if I enter?"

"Yes." Harry replied, snuggling into the warmth of the blankets.

The little man entered and gently sat on the stool near Harry's head of the bed. He looked at the child with light in his eyes.

"I couldn't help but see how long you tried to keep us awake." The older hobbit stated quietly.

Harry pursed his lips. Frodo took note of it and kept silent. They both did for a good long while before the little boy turned on his side to face his little guardian.

"I'm sorry Frodo." He whispered. "I think…I think, the Magic might be calling me back and I really do not want to go."

His guardian looked at him agape. Between the pair of them, they developed enough trust with each other to talk about how Harry came to be in the Shire. The little boy told the hobbit that he thought it was because of the Magic that did it. The Magic he said that had been with him from the beginning.

Frodo, who unlike other hobbits, knew some of the stories of men. One of their legends spoke of a land beyond the horizon past the sea. That was where strange folk came from before coming to Middle-Earth. Not that it did any one too much good knowing these stories.

Although after having Harry in his life, Frodo couldn't help but begin to believe that maybe there were things beyond his understanding. Like the Magic.

The hobbit nodded after some time. "If you do go back, know that you are loved dear child. Know that, whoever tries to hit you in any way without a clear reason is the wrong type of folk to be with. Know that the Magic brought you here and that if you leave, it can always bring you back. There is a road every person ought to take then the road that must be taken out of whichever door you come out of."

The child more than understood what the hobbit was saying. Harry drank up Frodo's words like water. He had begun to doubt and fear what may happen when the night was through.

Quietly the pair sat before the child began whispering a melody. The hobbit caught on and soon they were off.

"The Road goes ever on and on; down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way. Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say." (_The Fellowship of the Ring, Book I, Chapter 1_)

The pair quieted their singing and the child looked far more peacefully than before.

"Thank you."

Frodo grinned before patting Harry on the shoulder. "You are welcome any time. Unlike Pippin, you're a good lad. Sweet dreams child."

"Good night Mr. Frodo." Harry grinned as he drew his blankets closer to him; he curled a bit more into a ball as the hobbit closed the door of the shed. As he let his eyes fall shut on his pillow, he sunk into the darkness. It wouldn't be long until morning came and a sudden sharpness filled Harry's wakefulness.

"I will not have his freakishness in my house any more Pet!"

'Uncle Vernon?'


	4. The Returning of Harry Potter

**Note from the Author**

Dear Reader,

I want to thank you for reading this story thus far. I don't like writing these at all as I sometimes think they take away from the story.

As I've been quite – shall I aloof by posting just the story and nothing about myself, I figured an introduction (greetings, I am Day) was necessary so you know that I'm not ignoring you, smile.

For those who have reviewed a mighty large round of applause and cake of thanks! I'm pleased you've liked where this tale is progressing so far.

For those who have kept themselves who have placed this tale on their Story Alerts list – thank you as well. I also shamelessly implore you to leave a review at my doorstep for anything in this story that catches your eye. Please.

For those who have stalked my author profile, this is obviously not my first attempt here on .

I hope you do not mind the many blunders of grammar and diction as per my first three chapters. I am writing for the sake of writing. So whatever comes out…comes out. Wince if you must at my mistakes. If you have any constructive criticisms, really anything to make this story better will help and be greatly appreciated! Give me ideas, I am definitely unopposed to those.

Now to answer some questions…

Harry and Common Tongue – when he arrived, he was still young enough and quick enough to pick it up. How that affects him…well now...

Harry and Hogwarts; Harry and Gandalf; Harry and Magic; Harry and Pairings; Harry and hobbits; Harry and Elves; Harry and going back; Harry and everything else in between – Too many spoilers may ruin the plot.

Immortality – It's hard to say at this point in time.

"Quest Completed" – This amuses me, don't ever cut back on game references, Doctor Who, Anime, Harry and blonde men with bows, pointy ears or a delightfully ethereal package…right, cough, moving on.

More Engaging Chapters – Working on it! Heads up, this one is a short chapter since I'm setting up Harry's interactions with all sorts of people. It's going to be a chaotic jumble the next few chapters. Where hopefully you will understand how the Shire and it's people truly marked our young hero.

Now the above is complete, I hope you have enjoyed my note and will continue to read the story.

.I'll write to you again after a few chapters. If you're anything like me, you would have skipped this entire thing and moved on any way.

Tis a bit rude, I know, but I don't see any Nazguls trying to get at me for doing any skipping of author notes – so neither should you..

Cheers, Day

* * *

><p><strong>The Returning of Harry Potter<strong>

"Vernon," hissed the familiar voice of Aunt Petunia. "He's my sister's child. He can't be faulted for his parents' freakishness. We've been over this."

An electric silence filled the air. The tension palpable and the young boy lying on the hospital bed couldn't help but tense. His eyes still closed as he listened. There was a scraping against style and heavy breathing. Harry lay still as he listened to his relatives argue.

"I've had it up to here with this!" The last word Uncle Vernon stuttered and Harry could almost imagine him turning the colour of puce. He could even sense his uncle's handlebar moustache quiver.

"He's a child. If it was Dudley…"

"He's not our son!" Vernon nearly roared. "You – said…you said that the best way not to let his freakiness to affect us is to stamp it out of him! You said that if we took him in…gave him a place to sleep, some clothes, some things to eat and taught him his place…you said it would not have to change things for us! That those freaks like his parents – like your bloody sister – wouldn't do anything to us! Now look at where we are Petunia. I should have listened to my mother when it came to you and your family!"

There was a gasp and a loud smack against skin.

"Get out!"

"Pet…"

"I said get out!"

Loud rustling, some heavy breathing and slam of a door that made Harry wince caused him to wonder if he could possibly move now. Unfortunately his actions were stopped when he heard soft feminine tears then rough dry hands encircle his small ones. He stilled his thoughts and listened.

He didn't know how long he lay there with his hand in his aunt's before a soft, dry hand wandered near his face, brushing back his unruly hair.

He felt a head near his elbow and for a moment he didn't know what to do. It was odd getting this sort of affection – or any affection for that matter – from his aunt. Harry decided he was quite uncomfortable with this change.

With a soft groan he tried to pull his left arm up but felt quite suddenly the weight of multiple wires and tubes. He opened his eyes and flinched when he got into contact with the light. He blinked back the sudden wetness.

"Oh!" He heard his aunt gasp. "Harry."

He felt more than saw her begin to rub his head frantically. As if making sure he was really awake. Again he was not at all certain of his aunt's sudden fondness.

Regaining all of his senses in a rush was a bit much. Then as he drifted into that place of sleeping and dreaming, he heard more voices.

"I came as quick as I could. He woke up?"

"Yes briefly."

"Please Mrs. Dursley step aside for a moment. I must get a clear reading…"

"…be alright?"

"Yes but…"

"…can't live with us."

"I'm sorry."

He wondered more than ever – what the Magic had done and why.

* * *

><p>"He's gone then." Merry said quietly to Frodo with a nod.<p>

"Yes, he is."

"I miss him."

There was a murmur of agreement as the two hobbits stared at the shed near the hobbit hole.

"How long's it been now?"

"Since this morning I think. He wasn't in bed though it looked like he was. It was as if he just vanished like Bilbo."

"Strange."

"Yes."

"Then again," Sam suddenly piped up into the conversation, a shovel in hand and a sad look in his eyes. "If he came to the Shire some different way the first time, I'm certain he'll come back again in a new way the next."

"That is if," Fatty soon joined the three hobbits looking solemnly at the shed – Folco and Pippin with him. "He'll come back at all."


	5. The Hospital

**The Hospital**

Nine months.

"That long?" He gaped at his aunt while watching her tidy up some of the books he'd given to read at his bedside.

It boggled his mind – what had seemed like three years in the Shire was only nine months in his personal reality. That made him technically nine years old and three or so odd months old. He decided finally that it all had to do with the Magic. He chalked it to time working differently in both worlds. No sense in making heads or tails of it.

"Yes," Aunt Petunia stated with a prim nod. "It has been that long."

"But what happened?" He asked.

He watched her get up from the chair near his bed. He watched her meander slowly towards the window to the left side of the room, just a few paces from the foot of his bed.

He noticed Aunt Petunia shake a bit as she stared outside. Harry found it curious that his aunt didn't want to say too much about anything.

It was a Tuesday, exactly fourteen days, seventeen hours and fifty-seven minutes since he had first woken up. It was also the second day he had woken up and stayed awake for more than three to seven hours at a time.

Right now, he was pushing nine hours since

The first couple of days since waking, all sorts of people had hovered around him in order to ascertain he was indeed awake and alright.

The few days after that – he had kept talking to them but no one understood what he was saying. That frustrated him of course until he realized that he had been speaking in Common Tongue the whole time.

He made the effort to switch back to English around two days ago after figuring out the words. Now he had a heavily accented voice that no one knew where he got it from. It made him uncomfortable but it was the way it was to be he supposed.

Now looking at his aunt – he wanted the answers to his questions.

Why was he in the hospital first of all? His memories were quite stubbornly fuzzy on the topic plus no one seemed to want to talk about it.

Why was his room located in the St. Mungo's Wing? In the past, he had come to this same hospital once or twice before his "coma" and never had seen this wing ever before.

Why was it also that his doctors (when they thought he wasn't looking) liked to poke him with their sticks? He wasn't going to tell his aunt because she still seemed skittish around anything out of the norm.

Why didn't Uncle Vernon visit any more? Not that Harry missed the man, he just found it curious.

And secretly he wondered why she and Dudley were being so incredibly nice to him.

Despite him speaking in a different tongue, when his aunt found out he was staying awake more often – she brought Dudley with her to the hospital late last week.

He'd come in looking sadly at him and even brought some books for him to read. Said he had found them in his second bedroom. Harry had said thank you when he was presented with 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory'; 'James and the Giant Peach'; 'The Giving Tree' and the Chronicles of Narnia. He had a difficult time reading too much of anything though since his muscles were still quite weak with what the doctors called atrophy.

"Thank you Dudley." He had said quietly (although his cousin didn't look like he understood what he had spoken).

"You're welcome." His cousin nodded and they sat there for a good ten minutes before Aunt Petunia came back in with hot chocolate, cookies and a pack of cards. Harry who had never seen his aunt be kind or fun to anyone (except her family) let alone him, was a very odd change. He still wasn't certain of what to make of it.

Back to the present; his aunt was now looking at him with a strange look on her face. He couldn't quite read it.

"What do you remember Harry?" His aunt picked at the dust near the ledge disdainfully.

She had not been in yesterday or the day before but it looked like the doctors had informed her of the changes to her nephew's progress. She had only looked slightly surprised at Harry's new accent.

"I don't remember much of anything." He replied. "What I do remember was Dudley, Piers and that other boy chasing me out on to the road."

The silence that stretched from his sentence was like static.

His aunt finally turned towards him, eyes teary and the little boy could only admire her for her strength in not letting out those tears.

"You had been hit by a car," Aunt Petunia sniffed politely. "The driver was drunk and…like your parents they ah – didn't stop and you got caught in the middle. If you hadn't been there…those boys, well…you saved Dudley's life."

Harry could only gawk at her. The only word going through his mind was, 'what'. Again the stillness in the air wasn't quite so still. Nor was it comfortable.

She finally took herself away from the window and went to the foot of his bed. Aunt Petunia had regained much of her composure to give him a small pat at his feet.

"Well, looks like my time here is up. Supper has to be made and you know how your cousin and uncle get. I'll be coming by tomorrow. Have a good sleep." She walked up to his bed, patted his hand one more time before leaving.

She had ignored the look of confusion on Harry's face as she hurried out the door. In a way, Harry was glad. The little boy was left to his own devices wondering over what his aunt revealed.

He spent the minutes his aunt left him in silent contemplation thinking over what she had said. He grew more frustrated when he couldn't quite remember what exactly happened in that accident.

"This is a merry lot of swine soup!" Harry growled finally in Common Tongue. He had wanted to through his hands up in the air before glaring at the tubes connected to his left arm.

"I probably would have agreed with you," the kindly voice of Nurse Tonks – a tall woman with long, mocha brown hair pulled primly behind her in a pony tail – entered his room. "If only I understood what you were saying. Chin up Mr. Potter. I need to see how well you can hold up some of these utensils so we can put you off that IV there."

"Oh," Harry had the grace to blush as he looked at the different machines around him. Some were blinking and beeping – though he noticed somewhat erratically when he dared to look closer. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. Now," Nurse Tonks stated warmly. "Let's see how well you do with these."

She gave him a spoon to hold which he held quite easily. Then she got him to move his arm here and there watching him with a critical eye. He'd gotten better with his arms over the past few days. The atrophy everyone feared had settled in wasn't as bad as they thought. His legs however were going to take some time to regain the proper strengths.

"Well now, looks like you're on the mend. Good, I think we can pull you off that IV first thing tomorrow, along with some of these other tubes and wirings. You'll need to stay for a few more weeks. Hopefully get you home for the holidays." Nurse Tonks said with a smile.

Harry nodded although he wasn't sure what to think of that particular assessment. Still he let himself be prodded to eat the food the Nurse had given him along with some other foul tasting medications she said were good for him. He didn't think they were but had to concede after the third one. He had felt a slightly tingly sensation after drinking it that ran throughout his body.

He put off hounding his aunt for answers until later.

After his meal – Harry went to a peaceful sleep where he dreamt of rolling green hills and valleys of golden wheat.

He never saw the look of sadness cross his Nurse's face. He also didn't notice the stick she waved over his body.

"On the mend yes – but not quite there," She muttered. "I could hex You-Know-Who if I could. I'd also curse those muggles especially his uncle if it didn't put me either with a fine or into a cell beside the woman I used to call sister. I'm glad I almost petrified Dumbledore for getting him in this state. Harry James Potter is safe, indeed."

No, Harry did not hear this strange monologue over his sleeping head. After all, when a witch or wizard did not one to be found out using magic or talking about "extra" ordinary things – they were never found or folks mysteriously forgot about what they had seen or heard.


	6. The Cousin

**The Cousin**

Dudley Dursley once knew four very important things he thought were vital to his life.

One, he could cry, kick and yell for anything he wanted and his parents would often bed over backwards to accommodate his desires. The same thing happened sometimes at school but rarely. When he didn't get his way – he could get away with pouting in the corner and picking on the kids smaller than him.

Two, his father often encouraged and his mother often said nothing about him bullying his younger and tinier cousin. They called him a freak and so did he. This was as normal as eating sweets.

Three, his cousin was definitely a freak and had to be treated like one.

Finally when he sort of succeeded in some things then boasted about it to his parents – he always got some sort of reward or treat – even if the marks were just above average by one or two percent.

However, everything changed one sunny day in March.

"Get him!" screamed Dudley as he led the charge against his cousin Harry Potter as they raced through the streets of Little Whinging.

"He can't ever get away."

"Run on you fat boxes of lard!"

"If anything Dudders, it's you who is a box of lard – ow!" howled Piers Polkiss when his friend nearly tripped him over.

"Look, he's getting away!"

"Get after him!" Dudley bellowed as he huffed and puffed while chasing after his younger and much smaller cousin.

The five boys in his neighborhood he considered part of his gang chased after him as he gained on his younger cousin. The fly away black hair, baggy clothes and not so fearful green eyes made him want to punish his cousin even more.

Turning a corner and barreling through an alley – the quintet of mean looking boys didn't notice immediately the speeding cherry red Porsche 911 Carrera Coupe charging down their way. What they did see was a scrawny kid crossing the street far too quickly for any of them to catch.

"Dudders wait!" one of the boys cried. "I need to catch my – oof!"

The boy tumbled on to the side walk when he got pummelled from behind for slowing down. This caused a domino effect where Dudley and Piers fell forward to the middle of the road.

Again no one seemed to care or hear the squealing tires. It happened so quickly that no one realized their quarry change directions and head towards the fallen boys.

"MOVE BACK!" someone bellowed before something thudded on the ground, a flash of light too bright to be normal and a car careening to the other end of the street. The driver – too stunned to do anything – sat in his seat, the bottle of rum that had fallen down on the passenger side lay spilling open.

The noise got people's attention. Already someone had called the emergency help line from inside their homes.

After the terrifying, jaw dropping moment of disbelief many started coming out of their houses to see what was happening or had happened. The sight would never leave anyone's eyes for the rest of their lives.

Dudley looked up, dazed and a touch bruised only to see a crumpled body lying on the middle of the road. His cousin looked nearly dead. He froze half afraid as he stared at Harry James Potter, aged eight, victim of a car accident.

His cousin's bruised body, blood spilling from unseen wounds and the odd angles his right arm lay at made it clear to him that this kid - who he had pestered since he had been young had just done the most unthinkable, amazing thing.

"H-h-Hary?" He stuttered, crawling towards him. He never thought he'd be in this position, looking over his younger cousin's body. He touched the arm he saw wasn't right and had to turn away. He puked the contents of his breakfast and lunch out on the street.

It was in that moment Dudley Dursley's life changed.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

Dear Reader,

Again many apologies for the short chapter. Many thanks to the reviews, story alerts and favourites this fic has received. Many more things to come!

Yours gratefully,

Day


	7. The Chapter of Many Happenings

**The Chapter of Many Happenings**

**March**

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry knew that something was terribly wrong.

The fact his dear friend Fawkes turned a magnificent shade of brilliant, flaming blue for a full ten minutes did nothing to alleviate his sudden concerns. Nor did the fact his entire office now looked like it had been dung bombed out of order

The sudden magical explosion the size of half of Europe had ricocheted that afternoon leaving all who those magical enough to feel it reeling.

Wands stopped working, small house fires began and made stranger things happen to electrical wirings. Albus himself who was sitting at his desk in his office reviewing a few important documents had been suddenly overwhelmed by what he experienced.

As things settled down minutes after the blast – fires calmed, children stopped crying and folks thinking they'd blacked out in his office, the Head Master grew paler than any ghost in the castle. He caught sight of an obviously magical wobbling off-kilter that fallen near his desk.

"Harry." He whispered and within seconds whisked himself towards his office door. Fawkes preened his feathers as if unaffected by the blast watching his old friend go. Albus himself didn't care swishing his wand half heartedly on some of the broken items on his floor. He barely notice the items wiggle about for a full fifty-seven seconds before righting themselves in proper order.

The only though he had was to get to Surrey with a team of his most trusted allies before it was too late. The boy was in trouble – big trouble if the spinning ward orb he'd seen had anything to say about it.

He quickly made his way down the halls calming students wherever he went or saw one, urging them to go to the main hall. He finally entered the medical wing of the school to see a panicked medi-witch attempting to fix the place. One swish of his wand and things were put in order.

The residue of the magical outburst lingered in the air but had thankfully receded enough to ensure the spells cast worked a bit faster than a minute.

"Albus," the normally calm Madam Pomfrey greeted. "What on earth was that?"

Albus pursed his lips and shook his head. "I'm about to investigate it however I do require your aid. I ask you remain here in Hogwarts and look after anyone who may have been injured through that blast. Also notify Healer Andrews in St. Mungo's Southern Division that I'll be visiting him shortly. Get Nurse Tonks to meet me there as well. I trust her judgment when I do not have yours." He requested.

"Right away Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey replied not even questioning how Albus had gotten his knowledge. She chalked it to him knowing far too much than what was good for him and went about his request.

"Thank you," He muttered before heading out of the room and towards the dungeons. He spoke again briefly to the students that crowded the halls that he was looking into things while searching for his schools heads of Houses. Albus didn't wait long for three of the four of them found him.

"Minerva, Filius and Pomona – get the students quickly to the Main Hall. Once there, no one is to be out of that room until further notice. Filius, I trust you will help Severus with his Slytherins. I will require his expertise in a matter that has just come about. Pomona, get the house elves to serve the children some thing to drink and eat to calm their nerves. Minerva you are to take my place while I am away. Get a hold of the Order and have them go to Magnolia Crescent. You know the place. Once there, wait with the children in the Main Hall and wait for my signal before letting anyone out of that room."

"Yes Headmaster."

None dared argue with him when they saw the gravity on the older man's face. When he came upon the dungeons – he relayed the same information to Severus Snape, who summoned what prefects he had to do what Albus had asked. Again no one dared ask what was going on and merely followed the solemn instructions.

Severus quietly followed the Head Master out of the school grounds and out on the road towards Hogsmeade. Once they passed through the school's Apparition wards, Albus turned to his Potions Master.

"Whatever you see today and whoever you meet, I trust your sense of decorum and confidentiality."

A barely imperceptible nod was all he replied with before the older man stepped back.

"The wards of where we will be going have been broken. We will need to make haste. We cannot afford to have the Ministry nosing about where they are not wanted. There are some things even they cannot know." The Head Master stated heatedly. "Take this parchment this will be all you need to Apparate there. We may yet need your potions expertise if any have been injured beyond Muggle aid."

Severus took what the older man offered and read it to himself, taking a hasty breath inwards at what he found.

_**Harry James Potter is located at Number 4. Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. **_

No wonder none until now have found the child.

Once read, the parchment shriveled up in his hands. The Potions Master looked up into the grim blue eyes of his boss.

"Precautions," was all the older man said before disappearing with a quiet pop. For a moment, Severus could only breathe deeply. The Potions Master did not lose the agonizing irony of what other spell was protecting the boy apart from the mystery of the blood wards. After all, it was the same charm had caused the death of the child's mother.

He too vanished only to have a slight, chilled breeze fly quietly past where the men had stood.

Elsewhere a man with a beard as long as Albus' cloaked in blue woke up from a very deep sleep.

In a rickety house in St. Ottery Catchpole, five children with hair like flames cuddled closer to their mother, the youngest clutching on for dear life as an image appeared in her mind.

Not far away a girl with hair like spun moonlight lay quietly in her mother's embrace making circles on the pattern of the blanket wrapped tightly around them.

A stone's throw away from her a boy with mousy brown hair who had been visiting his parents scrambled on to his own mother's bed clinging to an unresponsive woman hoping the terror he suddenly felt would disappear.

Lastly and even further away still, another girl with hair that looked more like a nest buried herself in her blankets with her favourite book curling around it as she felt a cold shudder rush through her.

All who felt the magical detonation knew as they knew themselves that something was not quite right.

Those who recognized what had just happened knew without a doubt that something was coming that not many would be prepared for.

"Mithrandir," a quiet voice said. "That must be the signal."

"Indeed it is Prince."

Quiet remained between the pair as they stood overlooking crystal clear waters ripple far more roughly than ever they did as the dark skies in the distance rumbled on.

"It worries me," Legolas, the once Prince of Mirkwood, whispered. "Will they be the same as the Warriors we met all that long ago?"

"Yet it must happen." The melodious voice replied. The two males turned to see the former Lady of the Golden Wood come into sight, with her was her husband Lord Celeborn and the former Lord of Imsladris.

"Time has always been his gift. In turn that gift passed down to all of them. We will meet them again as we did those many years ago." She said with a gentle smile and quiet nod. "A child of mist, raised in quiet lands will come unassumingly into our time. As his heart heals and he gains strength, as silently he came he will disappear returned to his land and time. Watch for him throughout the passing moons great men of valor as he appears to you in Rohan's glades and Gondor's citadel to the far west. Warrior Lord must he become before the end is done."

There was a vibrating stillness in the air as she spoke.

"Yes, child of mist becomes a man disappear for the last time upon the sixth waning moon three seasons from when he last came. No more will you see him until Isildur's Bane is worn. Beneath where the pony dances, he will come in the rain, not alone this one last time for Fate's Other Chosen will be at his side. Stay awake; be ready for great marvels will yet be seen. As two battles are won in the name of peace; they must return. Time is what they are given; time is all they will need and as it passes into the mist and many forget the grander deeds; seek the flash of light proclaiming The Great Evil arises."

So they stood an army of the Eldar children facing towards the crystal waters rippling with sudden power. In the distance the veil that protected the Undying Lands was beginning to waver.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The end was coming and when it did…<strong>_

* * *

><p>'<em>Better not think of that quite yet.<em>' Healer Andrews thought as he took a look at his newest charge.

Harry James Potter, the miracle boy who stopped a Dark Lord from causing further terror, lay unmoving in front of him.

"Well now," He muttered as he did another diagnostic. "At least he's breathing and his vital organs have not been punctured."

He ignored the glares he received the witches around him.

He needed to focus and hope that the boy wasn't so badly injured as not to be healed. All that could be done now is to speed up the process of healing his body and doing it the Muggle way would be best as the magical reserves of the child was greatly depleted.

* * *

><p><strong>April<strong>

"He's recovering at a remarkable speed." Albus murmured to Andromeda Tonks, the Nurse he knew would stick to her newest charge like a protective mother cub.

"Yes, but we will not how much he's recovered until he has woken up." She replied.

They stood in silence looking at the still sleeping boy.

* * *

><p><strong>May<strong>

"Poor Dudley Dursley, lost his cousin in a car accident – same cousin he tried to torture anyway!" Piers sneered to his former friend.

"Shut up!"

"We won't you large box of lard!"

"You bloody will! He's still alive!"

* * *

><p><strong>June <strong>

"Do you like your presents Duddykins?"

"Yes mum…"

"Dudley?"

"When's Harry's birthday?"

Silence greeted the question before finally, "July 31st."

"Oh. Can we buy him presents?"

* * *

><p><strong>July <strong>

"I hope when he wakes up he'll like these mum."

"Yes." Aunt Petunia agreed quietly.

"After all he's always liked books. I always teased him for liking them." Dudley said offhandedly.

His mother couldn't say a thing only looking forlornly at the child lying in front of her – a touch better physically but still dead asleep. She never knew the child liked reading. A twang of something hit her then and she buried it once again despite the resolve she had to hate the boy continued to crack.

The waiting for him to wake up (if ever) continued.

* * *

><p><strong>August <strong>

"Mummy," Ginerva Weasley said as she lay in her bed. "Could you tell me the story again?"

"Again?" Ron grouched as he'd come in with their mother. He liked the "Boy Who Lived" stories as much as the next bloke but really for the past few nights, that's all his little sister asked for.

"I could tell it but I think we should change the story a bit. Here now is a fine tale. Once there were three brothers."

* * *

><p><strong>September <strong>

"MRS. HENNESY! THE BOYS ARE FIGHTING AGAIN!"

"Dudley Dursley! Piers Polkiss! Break it up you two."

"NOT UNTIL HE APOLOGIZES FOR WHAT HE SAID ABOUT MY COUSIN!"

* * *

><p><strong>October <strong>

"October 31st," Remus Lupin sighed looking through the bars of the cage he had made for himself. "Oh how I miss them all."

He was not alone in his forlorn state. On an island surrounded by darkness and despair a once handsome man growled in the dark. He forced the tears back as he relived the night that had tortured him for the past few years.

"I promised you Prongs…" he repeated to himself as he rocked back and forth ignoring to the screams that surrounded him. "I promised you."

* * *

><p><strong>November <strong>

"Petunia, he is not staying with us." Vernon spluttered.

"He will until he recovers." She replied primly.

"He isn't worth much, you agreed with me on this once."

"Once I believed that – until I saw how mangled he was while trying to protect our own! He is my sister's child and although I care not for my sister, her child is not her."

"But he's a freak! Like his nurse or that Bumbleydor fellow!"

"I do not care. He is still our charge and when he is fully well, we can discuss it then. For now let us forget this whole thing." Petunia snapped.

"No," Was her husband's reply. "I bloody will not. I'll be staying with Marge and visit once in a while for Dudders. Until he's gone, I will be."

"Fine," Petunia growled ignoring her husband even as tears crowded her eyes. The boy had always been a bone of contention between them. The walls of normalcy had broken since March. She desperately wanted this nightmare to end. Yet looking at the boy – he was so frail – so small…like Lily.

She cared not for the slamming hospital room door as she lost herself in old memories. She lost a sister the night Harry came into her life. She lost a blood relation that she thought she could hate forever and a day. Yet here was her sister's son. She never could seek out forgiveness for her attitude to her sister as that anger had long since given way to regret. Lying on that hospital bed was Petunia's last chance at redemption and by God she would do all she could to be worthy of it.

"Oh Lily," Petunia whispered in the silence. "I'm sorry."

* * *

><p><strong>December<strong>

"Come on Harry, presents!" Dudley exclaimed joyously. The older and bigger boy badgered more than helped his cousin get ready for the day.

It had been weeks since the smaller boy came back from the hospital. Nurse Tonks who looked loath to send him away could only follow the doctors' orders that Harry needed to get home.

Harry suspected it was because she didn't like Uncle Vernon or this man who came in sometimes in a purple pinstripe suit with the longest beard he'd ever seen. The man introduced himself as Brian Wulfric – an old friend of Aunt Petunia's family apparently. Although – he never saw him when Aunt Petunia was around and when she was – she would always sniff and excuse herself from the room to get some tea. Harry noticed that his aunt's usually pristine manners took a backseat when faced with the bearded man. This tipped the boy off to be careful around the man.

Further adding to Harry's caution around the strange fellow was Nurse Tonks' own subtly nuanced conversations with him to take what Mr. Wulfric told him with a grain of salt.

Nothing ever did happen except that Mr. Wulfric told him stories of his parents – something not even Aunt Petunia did even if they were on better terms. At least now he now knew more about his father James and his mother Lily. He wanted to ask his Aunt about his mom but thought it better to stay on the safe side. He'd learn all needed to know when he needed to know it.

The day Harry left the hospital Nurse Tonks had given him a neatly wrapped present telling him to write her when he could. He agreed having liked the woman despite her somewhat overprotective nature.

So it was that Harry James Potter soon found himself being carted by a stiff looking Aunt Petunia and excitable Dudley Dursley back to Number 4 in a black hack a week before Christmas.

It was a quiet seven days leading up to the most joyous day. When it arrived, the boys had plotted – well Dudley mostly – on what they would do when the day came to open the presents.

"Dudley, Harry!" Aunt Petunia called from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready!"

"We're coming mum! You ready Harry?"

"Yeah Dudley," Harry replied finally to put his weaker arm through his brand new green jumper and grabbed his forearm crutches. "Let's go."

"Finally," his cousin sighed with a smirk and a roll of his eyes. "Here, door's good. I'll go first."

Since he came back to Number Four, Harry noticed some mighty big changes. Firstly, he'd been moved from the cupboard under the stairs into Dudley's second bedroom. Secondly, he'd received brand new clothes – that fit! Thirdly, not once had he seen hide or hair of Uncle Vernon.

Uncertain, he decided to keep quiet and watch for himself. After all, like Sam's old Gaffer once said, 'if you don't want any water over your head, you watch out for what's around so you don't go falling in'. Harry kind of figured it meant that if he wasn't careful, he'd get into some sort of trouble.

So down he went, slowly following his energetic cousin wondering if he was going to get presents too. The older Dursleys were known for not caring about him. Harry figured he'd deal with what happened to him when it happened.

"Finally you two, been waiting for you. Your dad is not coming home tonight for Christmas dear." The last part Aunt Petunia said with a pinched look on her face.

Harry struggled with getting into the chair despite Dudley's sincere attempt to help him…by pulling out the chair and pushing him a tad roughly towards the table.

"Careful Diddykins," Aunt Petunia said as she brought breakfast to the table which included Harry's favorite – sunny side up eggs. "There we are a nice, proper Christmas morning breakfast."

"Where is dad this morning? Shouldn't we all be together anyway?" Dudley asked curiously and Harry knew his cousin felt sadly that his dad wasn't around.

"Something at work the night before has him working over time. Come on and eat up boys. We'll be looking at those presents soon."

Harry nodded and politely waited until the other two began to eat.

Breakfast finished quietly although the most surprising conversation was when Dudley asked how many presents there was this year.

"Not just for me of course…" He said with a mouthful of bacon.

"Dudley, mind your manners." Aunt Petunia scolded. She watched her son chew and swallow before nodding for him to continue.

"Sorry mum," Dudley replied sheepishly. "Anyway, how many are there for both of us."

Harry watched the volleying conversation between the pair with subdued interest wondering if there would be any presents this year.

"Altogether there is a hundred and two." She said faintly with pursed lips and almost a glare in her eyes at the Christmas tree.

"That's brilliant!" Dudley exclaimed. "Did you hear Harry? There's One Hundred and Two Presents!"

Harry could hear the capitals in Dudley's last statement. He was shocked and amazed that he was counted among that many presents. He actually got presents this year!

Soon, they finished their meal. The cleaning up of the dishes went much faster than anyone expected because Aunt Petunia roped Dudley and Harry to help her. When that was done, they retired into the den where they surrounded the Christmas tree.

Dudley plunged right in and opened fifty-one presents bearing his name. He got clothes and toys, plenty of other things but strangely enough wasn't as excited for what he received as seeing what his cousin got. Especially since twelve of the presents his cousin got were from him…well his mum helped too. The rest Dudley chalked to the mysterious packages that showed up in the living room one day.

Harry was in a state of awe.

"This has got to be the best Christmas ever!"

"It'll be better when you actually start opening things." Dudley stated matter of factly thrusting a present his way. "This one's been waiting for you to open it since July."

"Thanks Big D." Harry replied with a smile.

"Shut up and just open it." Dudley said with a twinge of embarrassment, a touch of pride and more than enough impatience.

Off to the side, Petunia winced but had to admit to herself. Mentally echoing her nephew's words, it was the best Christmas she also had for a very long time.

* * *

><p><strong>January <strong>

The brown envelope arrived innocuously enough while the boys were away at school. Harry had gotten a clean bill of health from the Hospital to get rid of his crutches mid-month.

When Petunia opened it up with shaking fingers she fell sitting down into the dining room chair.

**BETWEEN Mr. Vernon Dursley, Petitioner **

**AND Mrs. Petunia Dursley, Respondent **

**Referring to the decree made in this cause on the 19****th**** of January, whereby it was decreed that the marriage solemnized on the 12****th**** of April between Mr. Vernon Dursley the Petitioner and Mrs. Petunia Dursley, the Respondent be dissolved…**

* * *

><p><strong>A Note from the Author:<strong>

Dear Reader,

Due to some reviews asking for longer chapters...consider this a review/wish/thought granted? Either way, as I said - I was setting you all up for the grander picture if you will. Thank you once again for all your reviews, story alerts and favourite-ing(?) of this story.

Yours sincerely,  
>Day<p> 


	8. The Filler Chapter

**The Filler Chapter**

The months following Uncle Vernon's serving Aunt Petunia the divorce papers were long and grueling.

Harry and Dudley had done their best to support their now sole caregiver since Uncle Vernon wanted nothing to do with his son, his son's mother or her son's nephew.

The eldest of the pair would help with the heavy lifting of certain things like the laundry baskets or emptying out with the bins. Harry would help with the cooking, cleaning and everything else.

They would have all been kicked out of Number 4 quite forcefully if it weren't for the help of Mr. Wulfric who didn't visit often but kept in touch with Aunt Petunia quite frequently though, how Harry didn't know. Not once had he seen his aunt receive a phone call from the man.

The day she announced they were moving from Little Whinging to a place called Ottery St. Catchpole which had caused a mini riot.

Dudley stormed up to his room and slammed the door he had even yelled at Harry like he used to a year ago when he was a bully. He blamed the youngest of the pair for getting hurt in the car crash despite forgetting in his moment of anger that the younger of the two had saved his life. No matter how strange – it had happened.

That hurt his younger cousin who had a limited understanding of why his cousin was the way he was.

Sensibly, Harry kept his aunt company until supper time when he went to fetch Dudley. The pair had a mini-row which resulted in Aunt Petunia locking them up both in their rooms with their suppers until each calmed down enough in the morning to talk it out.

It was agreed (though it took a couple of days for it to all sink in) that despite the small family's reluctance – they had to move away from Surrey. It was bad enough that the neighbors spoke behind their backs (much to Aunt Petunia's horror) quite snidely. The teasing for Harry had stopped when Dudley quit picking on him so much but with Piers leading Dudley's old gang – the two cousins were thrown into far too many more fights than before.

The constant fighting was starting to wear the boys down. Dudley was developing a bad case of paranoia and was often on the lookout for anyone trying to pick on him or Harry. The big boy was now a big boy who could fight with muscle. Harry who'd always been fast took the safest and wisest route. Run as much interference as possible between any potential fights. It caused him to become bolder in class often speaking his mind when he saw something wrong and distracting the teachers enough with useless prattle so that Dudley could stop the fight and escape from trouble.

Harry also became quite adept and "leading" his teachers to the conclusion that the school had a bad case of bullying. None of them really did too much to stop it of course but there were more of them on the playground during class breaks.

Aunt Petunia had noticed the boys' wear and tear. She often had to tend the cuts or bruises Dudley and Harry obtained from the school fights. It worried her and was another pro into them following Mr. Wulfric's advice.

The final shove to move came in the form of Vernon's sister Marge who came with loud words of abuse against Petunia and her family. In her rant, she had let go of the leash her pitbull was attached to which resulted in Petunia nearly getting mauled by the horrid dog's teeth. If it weren't for Harry who got bit in the process and Dudley who restrained the animal, Petunia was certain she would have lost an eye or arm or some other very important appendage.

The visit from Mr. Wulfric, Nurse Tonks (Harry's official private nurse) and animal services were the last needles into the already balloon of any hope Petunia had for staying in Surrey.

Harry never could understand why the old man wanted to help their family out so much. He chalked it up to a kindness that he was grateful for. At the same time, he remembered some of the Gaffer's words.

'If help is given to ye take it but don't be daft about it. See what that other folk is about. If it's someone of repute like your Mister Frodo then be it well with ye but if it's someone of ill-repute or has a bit of a mean edge or fidgety eyes about them, be careful. No one wants a hobbit that goes about taking what's not theirs nor do they want any harm or danger. A hobbit first thinks of what's right over what looks right. Ye hear?'

Harry had heard loud and clear.

Mr. Wulfric was a nice enough fellow, probably doing what he though was right. Still – that didn't mean that Harry couldn't quietly keep to himself that the man was a bit of a meddler. The Gaffer had words about those types of people as well but would only chuckle in that earthy way of his especially when the words "Sackville-Baggins" got bandied about. Then again, no one had liked that lot of hobbits especially disliking old Lotho.

Since finances were also tight, Aunt Petunia had worried about paying Mr. Wulfric back.

It was here, Mr. Wulfric got her a job at a local accounting firm that had just started running in the area as a receptionist. Harry thought she liked it there because it was at least normal, dealt with money and she had other adults who she could relate/gossip with.

More things to pay the kindly elder gentleman for Harry had thought after hearing the news. Something was up with that old man.

Of course his musings had to be put on hold as he helped with the packing and whatnot.

During that timer Aunt Petunia showed the boys what it meant to be resilient. Despite the horrible goings on with Uncle Vernon she'd taken the circumstances shoved in her face with a stalwart grace.

By mid-July things were set in motion for the boys' education for the new school year, their new home was picked out and half their things were packed up.

"Almost done," Aunt Petunia stated with a weary smile on her face. The trio set up camp in the dining room with most of the moving supplies pushed to the front room to be picked up by the movers (also friends of Mr. Wulfric's). It was late (around half past nine in the evening). They had decided to celebrate a day filled with packing, throwing and cleaning by getting Chinese take-out. A bottle of cola sat on the table half empty as the family ate to their hearts content.

"Can't believe how much stuff we got mum." Dudley said through a mouthful of rice to which Aunt Petunia gave him a disapproving look.

"Manners Diddykins."

"Sorry."

"We've got most of the things out of the spare bedrooms." Harry nodded as he thought of what needed to be done for tomorrow. "We just have the cupboards to do and I think we should be good then."

Aunt Petunia nodded. "Right, well time for you boys to help clean up here, get ready for bed and sleep. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and the rest of the week we'll be living out of a suitcase for a while. Have all the things you need with you and make sure they're nothing that can get lost. We should be in Ottery St. Catchpole a week before Harry's birthday. Mr. Weasel I think his name is – is going to be coming by with a couple of his sons to help us out with the last minute things. I want you boys on your best behavior when they come around. It's awful nice of Mr. W-Wulfric to help us out."

The boys nodded although Harry caught the stutter at their family "friend's" name.

"Mum, how many kids do they have?"

"I think seven? Not sure really –" Aunt Petunia stated. "All boys I think."

"Do you think they can wrestle?"

"I'm not sure Dudley…"

"Good if they can't. Wouldn't want to beat them up like I did to Piers, eh Harry?" Here Dudley snorted with laughter nearly knocking down his cola.

Harry could only shake his head with a small smile on his face. If they were anything like Piers – the two cousins would do their best to take them on. Plus Aunt Petunia would then no longer have someone her age to relate to. They'd be lonely again of course, but it sure beat getting beat up.

"Dudley Vernon Andrew Dursley," Aunt Petunia growled. "You'll be the first to clean up the washrooms tomorrow if you continue that language."

Dudley began to whine in protest which was cut short with a slight, painful jab at his shins by his younger cousin who shook his head. The oldest of the pair frowned but saw the shining look in Harry's eyes.

"Sorry mum." He mumbled.

"Good, now are both of you finished? Put your dishes away here and start for bed."

"Yes mum" and "Yes Aunt Petunia" were chorused back at her as the two boys quickly cleaned what was asked of them.

When the pair was upstairs prior to going into their rooms, Dudley took his cousin aside and glared at him.

"What was that for back there?"

"Your mum wasn't looking to good. I don't think she likes all this help from Mr. Wulfric and the fellow coming in tomorrow." Harry replied. "The less stress we put on her the better. If those kids start anything against us let them make the first move. It would be no good starting a fight just because they did something funny but didn't mean to."

Dudley mused over this a second before nodding slowly. "Right, as long as they know that this is still our place, not theirs, even if we're moving out."

Harry nodded. The two boys did their secret handshake perfected over the past few months before retiring into their rooms to do what Aunt Petunia had asked them to do.

The morning wasn't coming quick enough.


	9. The Shire and the Weasleys

**The Shire and the Weasleys**

The seasons since Harry's disappearance had wearied Frodo greatly. He had the distinct feeling since taking in the boy that something of this nature would happen. The pain of losing someone like a son to him on top of losing Bilbo just years prior was rubbed raw at his heart.

"Now then Mister Frodo," Sam said with a smile on his face. "You've done nothing but mope since Harry vanished. Folk have been telling tales so tall since you haven't come out of your hole in some time."

The latter hobbit had come to visit Bag End to help with the gardening since he'd taken over from the Gaffer as he had done so in the past. The little shack they had built for Harry they kept tidy still as if hoping for the child to come back.

It was right around this time that they would be sitting down for elevensies with Pippin, Merry, Fatty and Folco joining them soon.

"I care not for the tall tales folk may be spinning about. I suppose you are quite right Sam about the moping," Frodo replied as he buttered some bread. "Yet it is Harry. He was but a small lad when he came to us. It's been nearly four years now since he has left. Do you remember what would happen every time we'd catch him with Pippin doing something naughty?"

Sam chuckled. "Aye, he'd go paler than the finest goat milk."

The two hobbits sat quietly chewing softly on their meal when they heard bright, cheerful voices outside. For the rest of the day they went about their business as hobbits were wont to do. Not knowing that elsewhere things were happening beyond their greatest imaginings.

* * *

><p>Beyond the Shire and forwards on in time, in the little town of Ottery St. Catchpole a little girl with bright red hair stared longingly outside.<p>

"Why do Bill and Charlie get to go?" She pondered aloud with a pout. Her mum was bustling about the main floor of the Burrow not minding the questions being asked.

"Ginny be a dear please and help me set the table. Your brothers will be here soon."

The little girl known by all as Ginny and Merlin help you if you call her Ginerva – did as she was told much to her great discontent. A great yell, stomping feet and loud banging could be heard coming from up stairs.

"MUM!"

Ginny looked up to see her brother Ron looking redder than a beat matching the red hair they were all born with. Blinking at least once or twice at him she then couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

Standing in the middle of their kitchen Ronald Weasley, youngest of all the brothers bore the brunt of the twins' mischief.

Earlier that morning Ron had worn simple khaki pants and his Weasley jumper (something their mom bequeathed them with every Christmas). Now he stood there wearing polka dot pajamas with a bright wet spot at his bottoms. A funny smell came from the wet spot and Ginny knew all too well that Ron must have taken a nap before lunch and left his door open.

Something of an unspoken rule was spread across the siblings. Never leave your door open when the twins were about.

"Oh dear, let's get you cleaned up." Mum waved her wand and the polka dots and wet spot were gone leaving a much less pinker Ron in the clothes he'd been wearing earlier. "FRED! GEORGE! Come down here!"

Their mother's voice had risen and the younger siblings couldn't help but grin. Thoughts of her father and her older brothers leaving to help move a family (chiefly a family with Harry Potter in it – she weaseled that one out of Bill who told her not to say anything) hid for a moment as she took in the scene. The scolding the twins received was too good to watch especially since their mum would make certain they dealt with the gnomes outside after they all ate.

Percy, the third eldest of all the brothers had come down after the shouting was ended and lunch was served. He had been reading his Potions book so that he could get ahead when school started. He scowled at Ron and the twins who ignored him.

"How's one supposed to study with so much noise?" He growled as he mowed through his sandwich.

Ginny having heard him due to being beside him, kicked her brother lightly at the shin. The thirteen year old looked at his younger sister who gave him a stern look and nodded towards Ron. The older boy annoyed at first took a gander at where she tilted her head. He saw the almost forlorn look on Ron's face.

He sighed and focused on his meal. He didn't say anything to Ginny as the family ate in glum silence despite Mrs. Weasley going on and on about their soon to be neighbors.

"Wait until your father comes back and see if we can go meet them." She said with a smile in her tone. "Perhaps I could make some apple pie…"

That perked up Ron's ears. With a fistful of food in his mouth he said something like "Aisle gahep yawit dapples."

"Ronald, manners and what on earth did you just say?"

"Think he said he'll help with the apples." Ginny replied translating her brother's foodinese.

"That's 'cause he wants some for himself." Fred or was it George snorted.

"Not a bad idea though." George or was it Fred replied.

"No, not a bad idea at all." The twins stated simultaneously.

"Ginny and Ron can take care of the apples. You two will deal with the garden. Percy, how far along are you with your studies?"

"Not far mum."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Right, an hour before supper you'll look out for the twins make sure they're in line. Ginny and Ron you should have those apples to me in about an hours time. I need about a two dozen. Can you do that for me?"

Ginny hadn't wanted to go apple picking but then again it did give her something to do even whilst her father and her older brothers were gone. No more pondering what Harry Potter looked like or why he was moving to their neck of the woods – so to speak.

Lunch ended and the day continued at the Burrow.


	10. The Start of Something Different

**Author's Note:** I sincerely apologize for how delayed this update is and how short. I have been busy the past few months with a few too many different projects and I didn't have much time to formalize how this chapter would go. I had a few too many ideas of which point of view to start with until a gentle nudge from Petunia said to start with her point of view. This came out and it's a bit - well sweet. Really and she'd glare me to Hades if she knew I said that. Ah well, the amazingness of one-shot times with characters.

* * *

><p><strong>The Start of Something Different<strong>

Petunia Evans, once Dursley, hated this. She had wanted to stay in Surrey. She had wanted to remain in the neighbourhood she had come to call home instead of this village in the middle of almost nowhere.

But then there was _Harry._

That poor little boy, who'd somehow wormed his way into her heart and remained there. He'd been so frail in the hospital. He'd looked so tiny, so cold and so much reminded her of Lily in his sleep. He had her eyes for God's sake!

She remembered the day of the accident. She remembered how strongly Duddy had fought to stay by his cousin's side as the medics came to the scene. She remembered how she had been torn for her cool hatred towards the boy for merely existing and her worry that she'd never see those brilliant verdant eyes again.

She had lost her sister. Lost her and felt no remorse for losing her.

Having seen the damage done to the child and how staunchly Dudley stood by his cousin's side – how defensive, protective and almost grateful…she couldn't help but be forced to look on at her mistakes. She hated what she saw then hated what it done to her relationship with Vernon.

The world was a cruel place.

However, she was a practical woman. She listened to the Nurse, Andy Tonks, day in and day out whenever she visited her comatose nephew; listened to the progress, listened to the stories of Lily. She listened because of that old nosey codger.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of that school that took away her sister and yes she still blamed him for that loss; blamed him thoroughly because she didn't carry the magic in her veins. It had been days, then weeks then months until finally Petunia understood.

She understood the dark parts of her soul. She understood what she put her family through with her distance and insensitivity to what wasn't natural. She understood and hated that part of herself.

After coming to that realization, things progressed for the worse. Her relationships strained, her heart was in chaos but all for that little hope that the boy would at least wake up.

When Harry did finally wake – she'd been in the middle of a loud argument with her soon to be ex-husband.

She remembered it all too well.

_They had come to the hospital to visit the nephew. For Petunia it was a sincere look at the child, for Vernon – it was a horrible core. _

"_Why are we visiting the little freak of a boy?" He grumbled as he threw himself in the chair farthest away from the hospital bed. There were about three other families in the room and the curtains separating each patient weren't thick enough to block out all the noise._

_"Vernon," She hissed, looking around. "He's my sister's child. He can't be faulted for his parents' freakishness. We've been over this."_

_An electric silence filled the air and only the muffled conversations spread across the room could be heard in the background. The tension palpable until it was broken by Vernon standing up with a scrape of the chair._

_"I've had it up to here with this!" The last word Uncle Vernon stuttered. Petunia watched his skin turn the unattractive colour of puce and his handlebar moustache quiver._

_"He's a child. If it was Dudley…"She whispered frantically – wondering what the others thought of them._

_"He's not our son!" Vernon nearly roared. There was a pause as the families of the other patients in the room looked at them in shock. Petunia watched with an entranced mortification as they glared at their direction. "You – said…you said that the best way not to let his freakiness to affect us is to stamp it out of him! You said that if we took him in…gave him a place to sleep, some clothes, some things to eat and taught him his place…you said it would not have to change things for us! That those freaks like his parents – like your bloody sister – wouldn't do anything to us! Now look at where we are Petunia. I should have listened to my mother when it came to you and your family!"_

_There was a gasp and a loud smack against skin. In that moment, Petunia acted before he finished the last sentence. _

_"Get out!" She whispered with barely contained temper. Vernon realized what had happened and in his shock he looked at her feeling his cheek. _

_"Pet…"_

_"I said get out!"_

After that moment Vernon turned vile; almost violent but never in front of Dudley, thankfully. Things had become so bad that he left two weeks before Christmas. He'd left for Majorca with his sister for a vacation and not once looked back. She let him go, knowing that there was nothing left for them.

She threw herself into looking after Dudley and Harry. She made certain she got into discussions with Andy Tonks, the nurse who'd been assigned specifically to Harry by Dumbledore. She knew that the Nurse had to be magical somehow but she was finally done with her prejudices. She wanted something genuine, a friendship – maybe not as close as she had been with her sister – but having someone to talk to who didn't know anything.

Andy helped especially after the divorce papers came in. Petunia came to the painful conclusion as to what an ape of a man she married. Things then shifted afterwards. They were coming to blows over who owned Number 4 Privet Drive and a boatload of other things.

With Andy helping her muddle through everything – came Dumbledore's "assistance". Vernon was allocated the house while Petunia kept Dudley.

This led to her having to find a place to stay, a job and a multitude of other responsibilities that overwhelmed Petunia but her practical, pragmatic nature wouldn't allow her to fall into darkness.

With Andy and Dumbledore – she was allocated into a small village with an office position. She shuddered at the fact that it was the Headmaster of her sister's…odd…for better lack of a word that wasn't derogatory helping her. Well, helping because of Harry's presence and not really for her.

Either way, in time of need – she was grateful that at least someone was doing something to get some of the confusion out of the way. She was still unhappy and wished that all this heartache would end.

"Aunt Petunia, Mr. Weasley is looking for you. Aunt Petunia?"

Startled out of her thoughts Petunia looked towards the little boy who had changed her world for better or for worse – hopefully the first. His verdant eyes so like her sister's returned her look with ever brimming curiosity and a strange, ethereal wisdom. Midnight black hair swept across his brows and his translucent skin almost reminded her of what she thought a lost boy could look like. By letting him into her life she was getting that second shot at something…innocent.

"Harry," She whispered with a faint smile, glad for once she followed her heart. "I'll be down in a moment."

"Alright, is everything alright?"

A pause then her smile deepened a little. "Yes my dear, everything is alright now."

"Good. Dudley and I are sorting out our rooms let us know if you need anything."

She nodded and sighed. That dear, sweet boy – how could she have ever treated him so poorly?


	11. The Return of the Child

**The Return of the Child**

He had fallen down and was chasing after an elusive snitch. He had to catch it before it faded out of sight until he felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

The Magic.

It was a very exhausted, hurting eleven year old Harry Potter who woke up in the midst of a plain with no one in sight wondering what had happened.

Images and words blurred fuzzily through his mind.

His Defence Against the Dark Arts professor…a three headed dog – Fluffy and the fearful being protruding from the back of Quirrel's head. Voldemort. The man who killed his parents, tortured the Wizarding world and had done all he could to take Harry's happiness. He remembered the blisters on his professor's hands. He remembered Voldemort yelling for Quirrel to kill him and then he remembered how he had reached up and grabbed his professor's face. The screams, the yells and the thought that in order to survive he would have to hold on. Then there were the yells, the sound of his name intermingled with the howls of Voldemort asking his servant to kill him – Harry.

"Bloody hell," he cursed while looking about him. He was in a glen where the grass was quite high above his head. He inhaled the air feeling suddenly quite light. Here he was now – in a place where the smells of industry hadn't quite touched it yet.

In his moment of silence he wondered.

His family would be worried. Harry could almost see Aunt Petunia's posture stiffen, her eyes glinting with emotion she refused to show. Dudley would be troubled and hopefully the younger Weasleys would look out for him. Hermione, well she was probably researching about his condition and analyzing how to deal with the situation he was in.

He sighed. Last time he'd spent three years in the Shire or roughly nine months in a coma. He wondered how long this time would be. The Magic was very unpredictable. Not like his magic which he could control. No this Magic was beyond him.

The last time this happened – he'd spent three years in the Shire. Well roughly nine months in a coma. He shuddered figuring he was in for it when he finally woke to see them all. He tried to recall as much of the Westron tongue as possible in case he came across anyone. He then made the mistake of looking down at himself.

He grimaced. His arms were already bruising and by the sense of cold on his person – he'd been lying in the same position in the area he was in for some time. It was a wonder nothing dangerous had found him. Then again – taking a survey of his body he knew something was wrong.

If anything… he was much taller and more muscular to be an eleven year old.

He frowned. Things were not right. He looked at his arms, they were longer. His legs, those too were longer – wiry too (probably due to all the running around he'd done for most of his life). He reached up to his hair to ruffle it about and winced. It was tangled and probably resembled what a bird's nest actually looked like that Ginny kept teasing him of having.

He thought back to his time in the Shire. When he came back to 'reality' – he'd been nine almost ten. He frowned some more looking down once again at his aged body. He felt like one of the upper years.

"Fourteen, maybe fifteen I reckon." He whispered to himself. Instead of trying to make sense of things he just chalked it up to The Magic. He sighed and struggled to get up. He groaned as his body protested against the movement. He did his best to stretch himself out thinking that movement was preferable to staying still before something ate him.

Time with the Hobbits had told him that regardless of how safe you think you are – you should always stay a touch more cautious. He wondered how Frodo was. He wondered about Sam's gardens, of Merry and Pippin (especially) with their clever tricks. He wondered about Fatty and Folco. He wondered about the little Hobbits he had helped around his last days

Harry struggled with his worn body to make it a few paces in at least a direction to get a sense of his bearings. The grass was rough against his feet – he had forgone wearing his runners although kept them on him just in case. They were just too tight for him now. He thankfully still had his wand and the gleaming Philosopher's Stone. He winced. Again, The Magic – no use trying to make sense of it all.

* * *

><p>Eómer, the son of Éomund and Théodwyn, a strapping young man of three and twenty was clearly unimpressed by the task placed upon him by his uncle. Since he had worked his way into the position of Third Marshal of the Mark, while his cousin – the heir apparent Theodred was given the position of Second – due to a bet he'd done…well here he was.<p>

With his men, all good and sturdy souls, they had been once again given the task to do border patrols as more and more sightings of Orcs. Nothing new of course but due to the loss of the bet – it was double the time he normally would be out.

"Halt," He ordered seeing something moving west of where his men and he were heading. From where he sat atop his horse there was a small moving thing, no bigger than his smallest finger in the far distance. "Baldor, Déor – tell the men we will rest here tonight. In the morrow we shall keep apace west from here towards the river Isen." He ordered. "Fastred, Éadmód with me. There is a lone figure that ought not be wandering so far away from where men live at such a time as this."

There had been far too many attacks by Orcs and the Dunlendings of late. Not a concern but certainly unusual in all the years he had lived for the Riddermark.

Quickly he galloped over fen and field until the figure he now saw was that of a boy. Thin, wiry and certainly a little worse for wear in the strangest clothes.

"What child is this?" He questioned.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Many apologies this was so short! I wanted to post this quickly so I can set up some things. It's going to be a bit more action packed after this chapter and I'll be skipping a couple of things. We'll see where Harry will take us.


	12. Dear Readers

Dear Readers,

It is with great trepidation that I write this as I am uncertain how any of you will react.

For the past few months I haven't written anything for any of my stories and I feel like very sadly for leaving you all hanging. Stories ought to be told and this one has been in the back burner for a while. Instead of leading many of you waiting and wanting to know what happens next I figured I would write a summary of events or ideas I had in the process of writing this story but just don't have enough time or concrete thoughts in place to write it all. Please keep in mind these were all just ideas I had floating about that didn't have enough of a chance to be more concrete than they could have been. Perhaps someone would like to re-write Of Hobbits… based off of these thoughts. So here goes, prepare for the deluge.

Rohan – Harry gets trained to be a warrior; he "wakes" in the hospital wing in time to question Dumbledore and start making plans for the gut feeling he has that something is being kept from him.

2nd Year – 4th Year: Things occur pretty much about the same way except he meets Fate face to face in the graveyard and given a choice – to have time as a gift or to perish the consequences if he doesn't take the gift.

5th Year: At the battle in the Department of Mysteries – Harry and his friends are sucked into a strange whirlpool and sent to the past. They help with the War of the Ring.

There's a battle of evils as after the way they are sent spinning to the future – Voldemort finds out about a ritual that really brings back Melkor (evil dark lord worse than Sauron) by lending his body as a vessel which of course could kill Harry but doesn't.

Lots of epic battle scenes with plenty of danger.

Ends with Merlin.

Yes – there was nothing solid about this story from the start and I felt sadly for not having to write after so many positive reviews (my deepest apologies). I had a very ambitious outline of this story in my mind that I unfortunately didn't write down (go me – sarcasm). In the end I thought I'd let this story spontaneously write itself. However a few months down the line – I still have nothing to show for.

I hope you all don't mind my unfortunately short run of this crossover fic. However in writing this fic – it required more out of me than I could provide. If you want to take over this story, tweak it up or whatever – just send me an e-mail and we can work out together from there.

Thanks for reading so long and many happy returns.

With sincerest apologies, Dae


	13. A Second Letter to the Reader

Dear Readers,

I am pleased to inform you that I've gotten a second wind for this tale for which you can thank Mr. Peter Jackson and his team with the release of "The Hobbit" movies. I am working on a proper plot this time for this story and will be revising _Of Hobbits_... over the course of the next few weeks. I will be taking down this "original" version of the story in a month's time. If you have any ideas from previous reads through this story or if you have any questions from the original please do not hesitate to send me a Private Message or a review.

The Omniscient Narrator thanks you for your attention to this tale and appreciates any and all reviews as this story is reviewed, revised, sophisticated, lengthened and what have ye.

Much love to you all and see you soon!

Dae


	14. A Third Letter to the Reader

Dear Readers,

Apologies this update is about 2-3 weeks very late...ahhh...no excuses except work and life.

**Of Hobbits, Magic and Rings** is being tentatively reborn as either:

_**The Green Book of the Great Smials;** or _

**_Potter: A History_**

What was supposed to be updated a while ago - will be uploaded as soon as I have the plot and characters sorted out. The reason for the delay is because what first started as a re-write of an existing tale is now becoming an epic headache that needs writing.

I promise that I will update as soon as I can. Let me know which title you like more and stay tuned for snippets while I sort out my short circuited brain.

Much love to you all and see you soon!

Dae


	15. A Final Letter to the Reader

Dear Readers,

Celebrate good times, I have posted up the reworking of this not as my original titles from last post but as _**Chronicles of the Spellsingers.**_

I did give a nod to the title **_Green Book of the Great_ _Smials_** as many of you really liked that title. Well now my work is done for now, hope you all enjoy!

Much love to you all and see you soon!

Dae


End file.
